


Fate, or Whatever

by agentofcarter (izzimb)



Series: winterwidow izzi vs winterwidow saheli [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, also in which i forget that inner monologue is a thing, also in which i ignore my 800 other things to write, buckynat - Freeform, in which sam gets credit for setting up my favorite otp ever, this was inspired by my family having company over on friday and i kept stealing grapes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 02:11:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6781123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzimb/pseuds/agentofcarter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is a grape thief, and Natasha has a dinner party to prepare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fate, or Whatever

**Author's Note:**

> does anyone else get that thing where they start 8000 projects at once, work on all of them simultaneously, then forget about them, and then instead of getting back to them, start one more project? just me? no wonder i'm insane.

Bucky stood over the counter, surveying its contents. Glancing over his shoulder, he waited to scan the area for his ballerina. She was out of sight, not that that meant he was in the clear. He popped a grape into his mouth. _Smack_ , came her hand, down and swift onto his shoulder. All he did was smile, take another grape, watch her shake her head like she knew she was going to have to. Bucky and his food thievery went back to the first date, in fact. She continued reading off the ticked items on her to-do list.

"Nat," he started.  
"—Wilson only ever eats dessert so we won't even bring it out until—"  
"Nat," he tried again.  
"—wonder if he'll just know we're hiding it." She tapped her fingers against the wooden island. She looked up, pushed her hair behind her ear. Little curls stuck out horizontally from behind her ear. "Do you think he and Phil will just share the one pie? Maybe I should run down to Nonnie's?...get another—"

He kissed her then, completely pulled her up into his body, one hand with cold fingers pressed into the gaps between her ribs, the other hand, his warm hand caressed the curve of her neck, fingers tangled into the red knots of hair. A sweet kiss here, a heavy breath there, and then he released her to continue, stepping back to pick up another grape. She leaned back, rubbing her eyes. He knew he made her dizzy, made her head spin, made her forget what she was saying when she was saying it. She propped her head against her hand, looked up at him with a satisfied but vaguely ruffled smirk.

"You were talking about pies," he quipped, dragging his thumb across his lip.  
Natasha stared before she replied. "Sure. What did you want?"   
"Nothin'. You're just so cute."  
"I might literally kill you if I didn't need help with making dinner."  
Bucky nodded. "Oh sure." 

He popped another grape into his mouth. Natasha rolled her eyes at his lack of helpfulness. She walked away; he flicked his elbow and gave her behind a quick slap. She slapped his hand away and told him to shower. 

He did, dutifully. Last time they had had dinner with this many people, Natasha's sorority sister had married Bucky's squadron leader. There had only been 12 people all together, but it had been the biggest gathering they'd seen as a group. It was a cute ceremony, held at a little church over in Paramus, only friends attended. Afterwards they crowded themselves into a steakhouse in Hoboken. Despite no blood relatives at the table, it was a real family. Nothing in common, no doubt, between the two sides, and united only by a civil marriage, they couldn't be anything further from one, but there they were, ballerinas and soldiers, dancers and fighters, the gentle and the giants.

Bucky and Natasha had only met about a month prior. He'd secretly been watching her from a safe distance as she left practice; his gym was across the street from her studio. There was really very little he could do to avoid her. Then Bucky's pal Sam suggested they go see the show put on by none other than the bird's studio, so they went. She was beautiful; Bucky understood none of the plot that Sam tried to convince him was there, but at the end of it, he was just simply transfixed by the ballerina with the red hair. The skintight bun her hair was twirled into did nothing to diminish its shine. He was seated relatively far, but he could still tell she was beautiful. Post-show, the attendees has the option to buy a rose for two dollars to have them delivered to the dancer of their choice or for one dollar and personally deliver the flower to the dancer when they went out into the foyer to say hellos. He'd spend this other four Georges on candy and water, so it was fate or whatever that really made him go talk to her.

 "—thanks again so much for coming," she was saying to a group of young schoolgirls. "Bye!"

He stood behind her, just far enough that she wouldn't be started but just close enough that she'd know he was there to present her the gift.  
She turned, tucking her hair behind her ear with a smile towards her feet that made Bucky smile. "Well, hey there."  
He forgot to speak. "H-hi. This is for you." He stuck the flower out at arm's length and suddenly became aware he looked like an idiot. He laughed at himself. "Sorry, that sounded like —"  
"Oh, another rose," she mused.  
He leaned against the wall beside them. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound disappointed."  
She smiled. "Well, don't tell anyone, but I'd love something new once in a while. That's all."  
"New, like what?"  
"Daisies," she sighed, looking down at her bouquet. "They're my favorite."  
Noted. "Well, uh, I ought to get back to my friend. You were, uh, lovely tonight."  
"Thank you," she replied, and Bucky noted a twinge of a decrescendo in the song of her voice.

The last night of the show, Bucky couldn't make it in time to see it, but made it in time to see her greeting the fans outside in the foyer. He left the bouquet of daisies on her car with a business card, blank save for his number and "call me Bucky". 

She called and the week after that they were on a date at a Yankees game. Now, here they were, nine months later, sharing his apartment. Fate, or whatever it was again.

**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos and i'll pay you in my eternal love :)


End file.
